Only the Lonely
by Windimere Wellen
Summary: In which John and Elizabeth figure things out, Atlantis is lonely and protective, and everyone wants John's ATA capabilities. Whump.
1. Chapter 1

I'm going somewhere with this, I swear. Non-cannon relationship(s). Does Atlantis count as part of a relationship? I guess we'll see. Nothing weird, I promise. Just John and Elizabeth and some whump and some complications. Be kind.

Multi-chapter if its interesting enough.

\- Lady Winter

Elizabeth woke feeling incredibly well rested, warm and very content – nothing short of blissful. Light was filtering in through the windows, dancing in concert with the ocean that it reflected off of – reminiscent of the Stargate event horizon. It was just sunrise and everything was golden. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a few minutes more, relishing the moment. Ever so carefully, she rolled on to one side, anxious to not disturb her source of warmth, still sleeping next to her.

This was all new to her. Not sleeping with a man – but certainly sleeping with this one. John Sheppard was lying on his stomach, his head buried in the crook of one arm, the other splayed out, the long, lean muscle of his back bare where the sheets had slid down. In the golden light, Elizabeth's eyes sought out the four long, healing wounds that ran in perfect alignment from his left shoulder to the middle of his back. They looked better – just scabbed over now, but the skin around them still looked a bit tight. She considered how she hated to see him hurt, but if it weren't for those wounds, that she wouldn't be there with him, in his bed.

Two weeks prior, she had accompanied John and his team off-world to a village in the middle of a dense forest – the people there were of technology that would have matched Earth's in the late 1950s, and they were interested in trade. What they weren't interested in was trading with a man. It turned out to be a heavily matriarchal society, and when John had proposed trade for ore that Rodney said could be quite useful, the town elders had considered it inappropriate to do business with a male – even Teyla had no luck as it had been made clear that John was in charge of the team, and that she answered to him. John had finally made some headway when he'd explained that their expedition leader was a woman - so back through the gate they had gone to return with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth didn't get to go off world as much as she might have liked – so she'd been really enjoying herself. John and his team had spent time in the town while she brokered a deal. They were planning to return home that evening when disaster struck – one of the local hunting parties had gone missing – and John and Ronan had been quick to volunteer to assist in the search. As a show of good will, Elizabeth had decided they should all go – despite John's protests.

Out in the dense trees, things had deteriorated quickly. Some type of wild animals, moving in packs, had made quick work of their organized efforts, and the villagers and the SGA team had been scattered. Elizabeth found John stuck to her like glue, efficient and worried, and every bit the Military Leader of the expedition – a fact that he mentioned often enough to her. They had been ambushed by a pair of the wolf-like creatures, that were easily twice as large as their cousins on Earth. John had killed one, but the other had nearly taken Elizabeth's head off with it's claws – would have done so if John hadn't jumped in the way instead, turning so that his back took the blow, shielding her with his body. That had been unfortunate in all sorts of ways as the massive creature knocked them both off balance and they tumbled over the edge of an incline they'd been too distracted to notice.

Elizabeth had awoken first. Staring straight up into the trees, she had been confused for some long minutes, trying to figure out how she found herself wedged against a rock at the bottom of an incredibly steep drop off. It was John's shallow breathing, directly under her, that had gotten her brain moving. She realized belatedly that his arm was wrapped around her mid-section and that she was half on top of him – he'd clearly tried to protect her when they had fallen. Scrambling in haste to get off of the Colonel, she'd realized her ankle was throbbing with pain and her head ached. Thoughts of her own well being had evaporated when she had managed to squeeze past the rock she'd been wedged against and got a good look at John.

Somehow, she and John had become stuck between the rock and a tree. John didn't look particularly good – he had a head wound that was still bleeding sluggishly and dried blood down the right side of his face. He was lying on his back, and his skin was pale – his breathing soft and sluggish.

"John! Colonel!" she demanded, worried and shaking, reaching out to grab his hand. When she got no response, she looked around, suddenly very worried about the animals that had attacked them, but the woods were quiet. Instinctively, she had reached for her radio, finding it gone – no doubt lost in the fall. John's was still attached to his TAC vest, but was badly damaged. There was no way to call for help and she realized belatedly that her pack was gone as well.

Forcing herself to focus, Elizabeth had checked herself over for injuries – her ankle was not broken, but probably sprained, and she had a lump on her forehead – but no blood – so that was a good thing. Next, she moved on to her unconscious military commander. It was hard to get to him, wedged in as he was, but she managed to wipe some of the blood away with the hem of her t-shirt, and finally, he groaned in protest, one hand coming up to try to push away the cause of discomfort.

"John?" she asked, pausing in her limited ministrations.

Very slowly, he opened his hazel eyes. He stared up at her for a long minute before blinking. "You ok?" he asked, his voice quiet and rough, eyes a bit glassy.

She would have laughed if the situation didn't seem so dire. "I'm alright – nothing that won't mend," she told him honestly. "But you hit your head…"

"…yeah," he said after another long minute. "And my back is on fire…" he grunted, face scrunching up in a way she would have found endearing if it didn't prompt her to remember the cause of their tumble down the precipice.

"That thing – that wolf creature – did it…?" she trailed off, hands hovering a bit uselessly. John didn't reply immediately, his hand coming up to touch his radio. Finding it broken, he looked to her.

"Were you able to radio for help?" he asked hopefully. She shook her head.

"I lost my pack and my radio it appears."

John offered a sharp oath at that, then looked apologetic. "Alright…need to get up so we can hike out of here," he told her, but she could tell he was giving himself a pep talk.

"Let me help," she said, coming around to lean over the rock and offer her hand. He gripped her arm and started to leverage himself up, but stopped short, hissing in pain, color draining from his already pale skin. It made her stomach churn. He stayed perfectly still, part way into a sitting position, his eyes squeezing shut. "John?" she asked, surprised at how weak and anxious her voice sounded.

"One…minute…" he wheezed out. Elizabeth stayed perfectly still; his hand still tightly gripped around her forearm. She'd studied his features before and took the chance to do so again. Hair still wild, the threatening stubble that never seemed to leave his face making his skin look paler, remnants of dried blood still streaking down to his jawline. She'd found herself wanting to cradle his face in her hands, to sooth away the pain lines, to kiss his forehead gently. Her eyes widened and she shook her head and scolded herself mentally. It was definitely not the time or place to be fantasizing about John Sheppard.

"Elizabeth? You ok?" he asked, startling her. His eyes were open again, and he was searching her face.

"Oh, yes, sorry," she stuttered, trying to hide her embarrassment. Thank the stars he couldn't read her mind. The trouble was, ever since their encounter with Phoebus and Phalen, she'd been unable to think straight about John. Although someone else had been in control of her body, and she'd been screaming and fighting to be let out, that kiss was seared in her memory. Rationally, she knew it had not been John kissing her back – it had not been her kissing John – but it had been their bodies. Thinking about the kiss had led to thinking about a lot of other things – including the deep sense of grief and terror she'd felt when Kolya had kidnapped John. Every moment of the broadcast and watching John tortured by the Wraith stayed with her like a nightmare, and recently she'd begun to realize that her feelings about it – about John – had strayed past the professional.

After Simon, and being on Atlantis, she'd never considered finding a personal relationship again. At least not anytime soon. She'd never considered that the time she spent there, in Pegasus, was changing her so much – that the experiences, both terrifying and astounding – were creating a new way of looking at life. Sure, she'd always thought of John Sheppard as a friend, a valuable asset to her expedition and a confidant. They'd had their share of troubles with each other – gone toe to toe. She'd certainly wanted to kill him a few times. But he'd become a constant in her life – and she'd found herself realizing he was one of the few people to be there, steady in conviction and more honest in the way he lived than she was used to – especially coming from a world of politics. So it was with some self-awareness that she realized she'd become attached to John – and then the dawning realization of what it would be to lose him, that led to other thoughts like realizing physical attraction. Which led to realizing she might have feelings for a man that she definitely should not have feelings for.

"…ok, if you're sure," he drawled, like it was her and not him that was holding them up at that moment. It had his intended result – she'd rolled her eyes at him.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, a serious tone in her voice.

John had hesitated a moment before responding. "I think I might have a few cracked ribs." Worry had coursed through her like a lightning bolt – she hadn't been sure if it was the injury or the fact that he'd been so honest with her that had her more worried. She was significantly more used to him telling everyone he was fine. "Just give me some support," he told her quickly.

It felt like it had taken forever, and for a moment or two, she'd thought he was going to pass out again, but eventually he was standing, leaning heavily on the tree, breathing in short, raspy, tortured breaths. From there, Elizabeth could see deep rents in his TAC vest over his back, and the edges were dark with blood – evidence of long, wicked claws that had made quick work of the vest and whatever they had shredded underneath. She limped over to him, and he watched her through hooded, glassy eyes. "That's your definition of ok?" he snarked at her, but his voice was so rough that it lost its intended mirth.

"I think it's just twisted," she told him. "You can wrap it for me after I've taken a look at your back," she said. He looked like he had been about to argue. "You're bleeding – we won't get far if you get an infection or bleed to death," she told him, appealing to his rational soldier's mind – not that he was well known for regard for his own health and safety. "Deal?" she asked challengingly. After a long, thoughtful pause, he nodded.

"Alright," he agreed, and had leveraged himself down on the rock, hissing in pain as he jostled his ribs, one hand still tight on his P90, the other pressed tightly against his middle in an attempt to stave off the pain.

He'd sat remarkably still, like a carved stone statue, holding himself against the pain as she'd helped him out of the TAC vest, her fingers brushing his collar bone accidentally. Turning away to hide her blush, she rummaged through the vest on the ground, pulling out pressure bandages, tape and antiseptic gel, as well as some pain killers. She handed those over to him, but he'd insisted she take some as well before he took any himself. She knew it would maybe only take the edge off, but she'd agreed. Then she went to work getting his jacket off. It was painful and slow, but he'd endured without a sound. Underneath that, his black t-shirt did little to hide the gashes that ran down his back – one paw's worth of claw marks. Remarkably, the TAC vest had taken the brunt of it, and though there was blood, the wounds weren't all that deep – which was a relief. They both mutually agreed that trying to take the t-shirt off was unwise, so Elizabeth had lifted it carefully, bunching it up under his arms to try and clean the wounds and bandage them. Noticing the smooth, muscular lines of his back in a way she probably shouldn't have, she was glad he couldn't see her face.

After she'd bandaged the wounds on John's back, which he had sat through stoically, she then moved around to check on his ribs. She studiously refused to make eye contact with him while trying not to inappropriately observe that he was in excellent shape. She wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that the dark bruises and angry red spots over his rib cage were distracting enough to sober her thoughts.

"Your ribs don't look good," she agreed. "But Carson would know better than me." Very gently, she guided his shirt back down, refusing to think about how close she was to him or how intimate this seemed. Then she focused on his head wound again. She had a sneaking suspicion that he might have a concussion, considering how glassy his eyes were and how patient he was being.

It was then that she'd realized he had been very carefully observing her the whole time, a far off look on his face that was both present and not at the same time that had her wondering just what he was thinking about.

"Well, that's the best I can do," she murmured, drawing back suddenly.

"Thanks," he said seriously. Taking a deep breath, he held his hand out for the bandage wrap she'd also found in a pocket of his vest. "Can you balance on one foot?" he asked, gesturing for her to put her injured limb up on the rock next to him.

The next few minutes were spent with him carefully and tenderly checking Elizabeth's ankle. He'd unlaced her boot and his fingers were careful and confident, but incredibly gentle. Finally, he looked up at her. "I want to re-lace your boot – but pretty tightly. It's going to hurt," he warned her, and she could hear the regret in his voice. He didn't want to hurt her.

"It's alright John. I can handle it," she'd assured him. After all, she was more concerned for him. She sucked in her breath when he did as he said he would, but when she put her foot back down, it did feel more stable, and the pain bearable.

With their injuries as handled as was possible, John took a moment to consult his compass. "It'll be dark in less than a few hours," he had told her, looking at his watch which hadn't been broken in the fall. "We were out for at least an hour. We should try to find a way to get back up this…embankment," he said ruefully, glancing up at where they had fallen down. "Ronon, Teyla and Rodney will be looking for us – along with the Marines," he said, not saying what they were both thinking – that they would be looking as long as they were alright. "So, hopefully we won't have to go too far," he added optimistically, then got up ever so slowly, testing his tender ribs. "Ready?" he asked, somewhat breathlessly.

"We could wait here for them to find us…" Elizabeth had suggested, seeing the discomfort on his face, but John shook his head.

"Remember what Rodney said about that ore we were hoping to trade for? It interrupts certain types of signals – like our subcutaneous tracking devices. They won't be able to ping our location. Ronon can certainly track us," John said, eyes lingering on the carnage of snapped branches and the small rockslide that had been left behind as a result of their tumble. "But we shouldn't rely on the timeliness of that."

"Alright," she agreed reluctantly, crossing her arms over her chest. "But you have to promise to be honest with me John – if either of us needs to rest, we'll do so."

John looked hesitant. "Elizabeth, we don't want to be out here in the dark with those…wolf things." That had given her pause and she'd shuddered.

"No, but I don't need you passing out on me either," she said firmly, using her best Dr. Weir voice. He'd grinned cheekily, and her heart had given an unexpected flutter.

"Yes Ma'am."

Then he'd started off, trying to look as easy going and confident as ever. He turned to look at her, flashing her another grin. "Do try to keep up, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth had closed her eyes briefly, chiding herself. _Get it together, Elizabeth, this is neither the time nor place to be suddenly losing your mind like a teenage girl over Colonel Self Confidence. Focus._ It was then that she began to wonder how hard she'd hit her head because she thought she sounded like a cross between Rodney and like a sixteen-year-old version of herself that had a crush on a hot guy. It wasn't exactly normal. She bit her tongue and raised her head a little, determined to get it together, especially in such a difficult situation.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews. Chapter 2 is here.

* * *

Elizabeth stayed very still, mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of his rib cage as he slept. There were still traces of bruising, but the worst was gone, just the ghosting of yellowish-green reminders of his injured ribs. He'd told her that he didn't typically sleep well – but that since she'd been sharing his bed, she'd banished some of his bad dreams. The sun was still creeping up outside, and it felt nice to just have a moment of peace – and having that moment to watch John when he wasn't watching her was pretty nice. It said a lot about the level of trust he held her in at that moment. Although it was all so new, it was worlds away from where they'd been two weeks ago. Elizabeth shivered despite the heat radiating off of John's body, as she tried to banish the feeling of anxiety she'd had then. Instead of blissfully watching him sleep in the safety of Atlantis, they'd been lost and alone, trying to get back to John's team and the Stargate.

Together, they had hiked for what felt like miles, and her ankle became steadily worse. John had taken point, but his constant head turns to check on her made Elizabeth wonder how he could keep watch in front. Every time she caught his profile, she became more convinced that he was struggling as much as she was. Although one hand stayed on the P90, she saw that his other was wrapped around his chest, his ribs clearly quite painful. His face looked pinched and tight – and if she guessed right, he had a pretty bad headache from the head wound. Still, he pushed them both on – along the bottom of the ridgeline, looking for any way to go up.

As the hours stretched on, the sky started to darken, and John started to stumble here and there, shaking his head each time. Elizabeth grit her teeth – she had twice badgered him to stop for a rest, but he'd stubbornly refused. It was something that as the leader of the expedition, she both admired him for and wanted to strangle him for. John Sheppard could best be described as relentless. She was sure there were kinder, more flattering words, and certainly significantly more brutal words she could have chosen. But relentless was what stuck in her mind. It dawned on her that his own well-being was of second priority to him – he was clearly concerned with getting her out of danger and back to Atlantis. And there was only one reason he would stop – it wouldn't be for his own health – but hers. She wanted to roll her eyes, or even start in on a diatribe about his misogyny, but knew better. This had nothing to do with the fact that she was a woman – he'd never once given her reason to believe that he had issue with her sex. It had everything to do with duty.

That meant that she would have to ask to stop. Or he might keep going until he dropped.

"John," she'd said softly, but initially got no response. "Colonel Sheppard!" she tried again, this time louder, and his pace slowed. He craned his head back to look at her and saw that she'd stopped. Elizabeth caught the worried frown and concern for her that flashed across his face. In a few tired strides, he was at her side.

"What is it?"

"John, we need to stop and rest," she said, gesturing to his arm wrapped around his chest.

"We need to keep going," he argued back. "It will be dark soon – we're running out of time."

Elizabeth sighed. It was clear that her concerns for his injuries definitely wasn't going to win her this battle. "I'm sorry Colonel, but I don't think I can…my ankle…."she said, tipping her head down a little so he wouldn't look directly in her eyes. She'd always felt like he could see right through her when he did that. From the slightly inclined angle, she could see his face morph with worry and silently congratulated herself.

"What's wrong?" he asked, dropping down into a crouch with a grunt of pain, hands reaching for her injured ankle. Elizabeth bit back a curse at his disregard for his own injury. "Did you twist it further?" he said, voice raspy with the effort to breathe. She wanted to shout that no, she hadn't, she was faking it to make him stop for his own well-being, but knew she couldn't.

"I think so," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, but I need a little rest."

"Of course, I'm sorry I was pushing so hard – I just wanted to get you out of here…" he said, trailing off with the effort of straightening his body back up. He closed his eyes tightly, face pale and he wavered for a moment, and Elizabeth thought he might pass out – but with a grim clenching of the jaw, he re-opened his eyes, dark with fatigue and pain. "…we just need shelter," he continued.

Then he did something that was only moderately unexpected – he slipped in next to her and pulled her arm over his shoulder so that he could support her on the side of her injury. She wanted to scream – knew it was her own fault that he thought she was hurt worse than she was – knew that his ribs probably couldn't or shouldn't take the strain, but if she confessed, then he'd just continue on anyway. It felt like physical pain in her chest when she felt the slight tremor of his body when he got them moving again, and she noticed how hard he was trying to hide his labored breathing.

Elizabeth could only take a few minutes of this torture, guilt flooding her system. She was about to simply tell him she was feeling better when she felt him changing direction and in the fading light, she saw what he'd seen – some caves. John had settled her on a moderately large boulder and switched the light of his P90 on.

"You're going in there?" she'd asked incredulously.

He turned to grin at her, his usual flippant smirk plastered on his face. "We need shelter."

"But…"

"But this is how every horror movie starts?" John finished for her, the moment of levity making Elizabeth feel a lot better about things.

Elizabeth found herself smiling back at him. "…just be careful."

"Aren't I always?" he chirped and moved towards the mouth of the cave.

"I wouldn't describe your methods as careful," she said with a role of her eyes, wished she could see his face in response, but he'd already disappeared inside.

Alone, she realized that he'd used humor, as always, to deflect her worry. It was his best tactic – if he wasn't playing something down with humor, he was self-deprecating himself, or what she hated most, he would be stubbornly argumentative. But it always started with trying to make a joke of things. She found it irritating and maddening, and yet also oddly endearing. Elizabeth's rational mind told her that the fact that she now considered some of John's more irritating quirks endearing was a sure sign she was losing it. Or losing something at least.

She was starting to get anxious when he re-appeared finally. "It's dry inside and I don't see any sign of any other…occupants," he said with a lopsided smile that was meant to ease any worry she might have. Instead, it set off an odd feeling of warmth in her chest. Elizabeth nodded, getting up, and shivering. When they'd been moving, she hadn't noticed that the temperature had dropped, but now she realized it was cold.

"Come on," John said, making his way to her to assist her into the cave. "It's not warm in there, but I have an emergency blanket in my vest," he told her, having noted her discomfort. It didn't surprise her that he was already thinking ahead.

Once in the cave, he guided her back quite a way until there was no draft from the entrance. The floor was sandy and soft, which was a relief when they finally sat down. The light from the P90 cut through the darkness, but it was still eerie in the cave and Elizabeth shivered again, not just from the cold. John sucked in a sharp breath when he finally lowered himself down and against the wall of the cave, shining the light so she could also sit. Elizabeth was glad her face was shadowed, or he certainly would have seen her face crease in worry – he looked pale, and even though it could have been the fluorescent glow of the flashlight, she didn't think so. He turned his head away slightly, clearly trying to hide his pain as he tried without success to get comfortable, his arm tight around his chest.

"John…"

"I'm alright," he told her, but as he spoke, his breath hitched, rather ruining his attempt at bravado, and if she hadn't been so concerned, she might have laughed at the indignant look that crossed his face when his body betrayed his words.

"Let me help take your vest off," she said gently, instead of pressing him. She knew from experience that if she argued with him about whether or not he was fine, it wouldn't do either of them any good except to make them both frustrated. Elizabeth wasn't sure if she should be worried when he nodded at her – normally he didn't want any help.

She scooted a little closer to him, and reached up to unbuckle the vest while he held the light steady so she could see, his one hand already working on the bottom most buckle. It suddenly felt very intimate as she realized just how close she was to him, her face close to his and she chanced a look at him. He had his tongue between his teeth, a look of concentration on his face as he used just one hand to do what normally would be done with two. It was incredibly attractive. Again, Elizabeth wondered if she was the one that had hit her head. She pulled back when she'd finished her task and he eased forward to get out of the vest, hissing softly when he put pressure on his ribs. Elizabeth's stomach twisted in sympathy, but soon enough the vest was off. He'd unclipped the P90 first and wedged it between his knees so he could use both hands to go through the various pockets on the vest.

John produced a canteen that had been hooked to the vest and handed it to Elizabeth. She gratefully took a drink of water as he peered at two power bars he'd also retrieved. Seeming satisfied, he handed one to her. She saw it was lemon, and was surprised that he remembered she'd said the only power bars she'd found even remotely good tasting had been the lemon – that had been on their first off-world trip together. Elizabeth said nothing, but smiled gratefully at him, and he responded with a warm smile of his own.

The Colonel went studiously back to his search, and found a pouch which held the thin, but incredibly useful emergency blanket. He carefully unpacked it, then looked over at her, clearing his throat, looking suddenly embarrassed.

Elizabeth found herself smirking, surprised to realize she knew exactly what was going through is mind.

"Colonel, I've taken survival training before – it was pretty much a requirement for coming to another galaxy. I'm well aware that the best way to stay warm is to share body heat – and we only have one emergency blanket…" she said, trailing off as she watched his face turn from embarrassment to amusement.

"You seem a little eager to cuddle with me, Dr. Weir," he said, taking her cue at using the title. Still, the fact that John Sheppard had just used the word cuddle almost undid her.

To cover her surprise, Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but was grateful that the cave was dark or he might have seen the blush creeping up her neck. He may have been joking, but as he mentioned it, she suddenly realized she was really wondering what it would feel like to be so very close to him.

"I don't know, Colonel, you're the one finding this secluded spot and offering me dinner by flashlight," she said with a smirk.

John grinned at her, unwilling to let her win the verbal battle. "If you're going to go to bed with me after our first date, you'd better start calling me John and leave my rank behind."

"John Sheppard!" she half scolded, thinking she should have been more scandalized than she actually was. This was a fine line they were stepping over. She knew he was a flirt – in fact, she thought most of the time he had no idea just how flirtatious he was. She also knew they had a very professional relationship that they had built on Atlantis – and a very powerful friendship. Being in command was really quite lonely – but she wasn't entirely on her own there – while she was in charge of the expedition as a whole, John was the military commander and they had to make decisions together in order for the expedition to succeed. There had been bumps along the way, but in general, they made a very good pair, and they'd begun to seek each other out to discuss decisions and strategy on just about everything.

He had become her confidant – and she thought, her friend. On the nights he wasn't with his team, watching movies and educating Ronon and Teyla on Earth's idiosyncrasies, he had often turned up at her quarters or on a balcony he knew she favored to sit and talk with her and sometimes just sit and read – though she wasn't sure he would ever finish War & Peace. It was something that she begun to really enjoy – and was probably where these traitorous feelings had begun. At some point, she'd looked over to him, sprawled out on the couch in her quarters, barefoot in his BDU pants with just his black t-shirt and realized just how attractive he was. She hadn't allowed herself to see it before – knew that every straight woman on Atlantis was certainly aware – but hadn't let it be relevant. She tried to quash the thought, but it just kept coming back – along with that damned kiss.

"I promise to be a complete gentleman," John said, interrupting her thoughts, his voice a little cautious as if he was suddenly worried he'd crossed a line.

"And I promise not to take advantage of your injured state," she teased back, but moved to be next to him, stiff at first as she helped him unfold the blanket. Realizing she'd have to be flush up against him to be sure they could both share the silvery foil, she closed the last few inches, flinching when he grunted in pain. "John…I'm so sorry!" she said quickly, and almost jerked away, but a firm hand on her leg and a shake of his head kept her from moving.

"It's fine Elizabeth," he said with an exhale.

"John…you're more hurt than you want to admit," she said softly, and made eye contact. His dark eyes examined hers in return. He looked like he was about to lie to her, but thought better of it.

"My ribs do hurt. But try not to worry, by now Ronon and Teyla will have gotten McKay back to the gate and he'll be howling at Lorne to find us. By lunch tomorrow, we'll be back in Atlantis," he said with full confidence, and she was cheered by the thought. The mention of lunch made her stomach growl, and she flushed, and focused on eating the power bar, noting that he ate his as well, but was making sure she'd finished hers.

Her fingers found his vest, and she searched through the pockets until she found pain killers. "Take these," she told him. He looked like he was going to argue, but she shook her head. "I'll take some for my ankle, and you take some for your ribs…and for your head," she told him firmly.

He smirked at her. "I didn't know you were so good at field visits," he joked, but took the asprin.

"Well, don't tell anyone. Carson will be miffed."

John chuckled, but that made him cough, which they both regretted instantly. His eyes pressed closed. Elizabeth peered at him worriedly.

"Your ankle didn't get worse, did it?" he said after a few minutes of silence, his eyes still closed. Elizabeth blanched.

"…no."

"Tricked me," he groused, but he didn't seem all that angry. "You shouldn't use my concern for you against me," he added softly, and Elizabeth felt her heart thump. John was not good with emotions – or talking in general – so this was something quite different.

"I'm allowed to care about you too," she said carefully, and then realizing her choice of words, blushed in the dark. "I mean about your health." He smirked, eyes still closed, so she hurried on. "I need you to get us both out of here tomorrow," she added, deciding to appeal to the core essence of who John Sheppard was – warrior and protector. "And to do that, you need rest," she said logically. It was odd – before her time in the Stargate Program, she'd been a negotiator. She'd brokered peace deals all over the world – managed oil rights and disarmaments, but she had yet to master negotiating with John.

"And I will," he promised her seriously, one eye opening to observe her. She felt suddenly exhausted – but oddly safe, with John there in between her and the cave entrance. She should have been more worried, especially considering his injuries, but she felt deeply inside that he would protect her. It was a little frightening – he had demonstrated over and over his willingness to trade his life for others. If it ever came to that, she knew the universe would be a lot worse off without him.

She felt him nudge her with his hand, then press something wrapped in foil into her palm. "I normally reserve my emergency stash for Rodney, but you look like you could use it," he joked, and she realized he'd given her a bar of chocolate that a lot of the teams carried in their vests.

Elizabeth smiled in the dark, touched by how much he cared about Rodney – how he knew so well how to take care of the brilliant, socially awkward scientist. Very few military men would have taken to Rodney McKay the way John had – turning him into a valuable member of Atlantis' premier offworld team. She had known Rodney for a while and could have never imagined the changes she'd seen in the man since he'd become part of John's team – and ultimately, part of the little family he'd created.

"Thanks," she said.

After the chocolate was gone, she felt exhausted.

"Sleep," John said softly. "I'll keep watch."

"I would argue…but if you have a concussion, you probably shouldn't sleep," she'd said, trying to use his same levity, but it felt flat in her own ears – she really hoped he wasn't concussed. Still, her heart lifted a little when she saw him smirk.

"I didn't know your doctorate was in medicine," he drawled.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but was surprised when he switched off the P90 light and used an arm to pull her close – arguably for warmth – but it felt so intimate and safe. Careful not to jostle him, she let herself lean into him, her head resting on his collar bone. It felt a little wrong to be tucked up so tightly with her military commander and to not feel like she was stepping over any boundaries, but oddly, she had no concern that things would be uncomfortable in the morning. She was thinking about just how warm his body was when she finally drifted off to sleep, certain that John would keep her safe.


End file.
